# Chapter 51: What Working On It Looks Like
Monday night, Roman ate dinner alone at the kitchen table.
He had ordered from the place two streets over that he had always meant to try and never had because there had always been something else happening at the hour when it became relevant. Before he sat down he put his phone face-down on the counter. He did not pick it up during the meal.
There was nobody across from him. No conversation to be present for. He was practicing anyway, on the theory that you could not build a new habit in the presence of the thing you had failed at before you had built it in its absence. You practiced the form first. You filled it in later.
The soup was good. He had always heard it was good. He had never found out until now.
He washed the bowl himself and pu
